Lemon Meringue
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: Judging by the weary look plastered on Nick's face, they weren't going for coffee. It would take something much stronger to right the wrong done to his psyche. [GSR]


Title: Lemon Meringue

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I own ALL!

Summary: Judging by the weary look plastered on Nick's face, they weren't going for coffee. It would take something much stronger to right the wrong done to his psyche.

Quick note: Marlou, I love you, I do. You're spectacular and wonderful, but I have a huge problem with posting-it is. It's so hard NOT to.

-

Nick stood in the interrogation room, Brass taking up the questioning, asking Lydia Alear's best friend when he'd last seen her. The man was sweating profusely, crystal droplets scrolling down his forehead steadily. They'd run into a dead end with her boyfriend.

"Last time I saw her" The man wore a smirk that Brass wanted to smack off his face. He almost did, but taking a page from Gil's book, restrained himself and instead shot the arrogant man a stony glare. "She was leaving for Josh's house. She was always over there. Always... going out with him." Kevin Dullman grinned and looked down at himself self-deprecatingly.

Nick couldn't seem to contain all of the emotions that came with interrogating a suspect. As was normal, it was difficult for him to hold back from patronizing the suspect, especially since he knew, he knew they had the guy.

"Didn't matter 'at I was gay, she couldn't see me. He'd call her when we'd be out together. He'd show up at my place with an excuse. Always there..." The man's face turned sinister. "Always, always watchin' me. Like I'd do something to Lyd."

Nick walked forward, jaw set tight, trying not to unleash on the man, knowing that if he did, he'd be severely reprimanded. "Mustah pissed you off though, right? That she was always with that guy. He was strange wasn't he? Liked, liked the kink. Tied her up, didn't he? Tied her up and"

"He made her beg. It's not supposed to be like that" Kevin yelled, smacking his hands down on the worn table, angered incredibly.

Nick kept his smirk to himself and baited the man further. "Yeah, he said he was into bondage. Tied her up, got him off."

Kevin bit his lip until it was bleeding and then unleashed. "I had to kill her damn it! He was using her! He was using her and she didn't know it, she wouldn't see it."

"You killed your best friend." Brass said quickly, his glare matching Nick's. "You killed your best friend... because she couldn't see you."

"I loved her." Kevin spat into the detective's face.

Nick leaned back, palms off of the table. "But she didn't love you. Not like you wanted her to." He concluded and grabbed his manila file from the table with gusto, spinning and walking from the room.

As he left, head hung, he encountered three of his co-workers, and they all looked at him admiringly. "Coffee" Catherine posed, placing her hand on his back lovingly, knowing that Nick had been the one put through the ringer this time, that he was the one who'd been thrown into the deep end of the pool.

And he was grateful that his co-workers, that his friends were there for him.

The group walked together down the hall, only diverging when they reached the locker room, Catherine meandering away to inform their supervision and Brass about their plans. And judging by the weary look plastered on Nick's face, they weren't going for coffee. It would take something much stronger to right the wrong done to his psyche.

The blonde hovered around Grissom's office, waiting to see if there were any signals that there was indeed a human being alive in the office. When she heard his faint cough, she barged in, as per usual, ignoring the formality of knocking. He was startled, but not to the point that he should have been. He'd been expecting an interruption the likes of her's all morning.

Trailing her fingers slowly over the front of his desk, scoffing at the thin layer of dust, she informed him of their plans. "We're taking Nick out for drinks." Grissom said nothing, but placed his nearly-finished file down on his desk, waiting for more information. "Case took a toll on him."

Catherine's glare caused the older man to hold back on his slightly annoyed expression. Tightly reigned, he sat back in his chair, for all intents and purposes lounging. But Catherine knew that he was simply biting his tongue. "We'd like you to come." A smirk then, followed by"We being namely me, so that leaves no room for interpretation."

There really hadn't been any room for more words, as Catherine spun to leave, leaving him to ponder over her words for a moments time before standing to tidy his office and leave.

The Las Vegas sun was anything but unforgiving when Grissom walked out of the coolness of the lab into the brilliant yellow of the real world. They were all assembled, lounging around Warrick's Tahoe, waiting on he and Brass. The detective caught him up the rear, slapping a hand on his shoulder as he came upon him. "How long has it been since we did this" Brass asked, literally to no one in particular, but Catherine took the bait and responded.

"Too damn long ago. Let's go. First round's on me." The blonde said, toying idly with the keys to her own vehicle, pushing her rear off of the hot metal of Warrick's. "Whoever's riding with me, hop it."

Greg sheepishly followed Catherine, as did Brass and Nick. Sara hobbled up into the passenger seat of Warrick's vehicle, thinking of asking Grissom if he wanted the seat and deciding against it. There was no need to be cordial, not after the case she'd been through; not after the week she'd been through, that they'd all been through, come to think of it.

Warrick had slipped into the driver's seat just as Grissom had slid in behind her, cringing at the sick, oppressive heat clinging to the leather of the interior. He didn't make a sound, as Warrick did, swearing off the dank humidity, turning on the SUV and pumping the A/C on full force. Sara peeled her suede jacket from her body and tossed it on the floor, the heat having sapped her strength momentarily, she slung back on the seat like a rag doll.

The freshly revealed skin of her forearms sizzled in the interior, or at least, that's how it felt. And that's how it sounded, at least to Grissom.

"Giddy up." Warrick mumbled and threw the Tahoe into drive, peeling out onto Tropicana, attempting to follow the sickeningly erratic driving that Catherine was demonstrating. Needless to say, it was difficult, and he did manage to run a red light... or two... but they wound up at the Norwood Cafe in one piece.

Though it was called a cafe, Grissom was sure the establishment had never served coffee. The closest thing of that nature was most likely Baileys, and for that he was grateful.

The interior of the bar was clean and sleek, mahogany and scotch. Businessmen sipping burbon, young vacationers downing beer at lightning speed, laughing and enjoying themselves. And it was big, with comfortable red leather booths. A personable drinking hole, a place you could feel good about drinking yourself to death in.

Catherine had led them to a spacious enclosure, towards the back of the establishment; plenty of room for them and then some. No need to press up against each other in the large booth, but Warrick and Catherine did anyway.

Catherine took the liberty of ordering them all shots of tequila, the best they had and requested three pitchers of beers and mugs, for chasers. If they were going to dull their senses, they were going to do it right.

Momentary diversions, amber, in tiny shot glasses, arrived at the table only moments later and Nick had taken the opportunity to hand out the rations. Each of them, glass staring them straight in the eye, daring, waited for someone to say something, anything. The moment, in all its awkwardness needed to be marked. Warrick took the silence as a hint and pried his eyes off the table, speaking in low tones. "To forgetting, for now."

Catherine smiled, following up his statement. "To momentary breaks."

Nick laughed, the tension lifting, filtering up to the ceiling to mingle with acrid smoke of patrons past. "To the kink."

Greg and Sara both laughed at his turn of heart, knowing that it was for the better and replied with a "Here, here." The young lab tech bit his lip and look briefly at his co-workers. The tension was sifting away by the second.

"Here, and I'm almost certain I'm going to regret this... here's to being the new guy."

The Texan to his left nudged him and muttered a rock on, just as Greg elbowed Sara, spurring her to speak. "Here's to... hmm..." She pondered, smirking, wanting hers to really count, as if giving thanks on thanksgiving, or handing out a blessing. "Here's to learning to... compromise." Proud of her statement, her attention flitted across the table to Brass and Grissom.

Grissom took the initiative. "Here's to my peers."

Everyone turned to Brass, waiting on his final toast, each eager to down the remainder of their sorrows. "Here's... here's to gettin' damn old." Brass nearly shouted, tossing back his shot, watching as the others followed suit. And they all laughed, each elated to finally let out the breath they had been holding since their shift had begun.

The words weren't spoken but it was clear that they needed another round and Brass had offered to foot the bill.

"Kinky Nick? You're not having seconds thoughts about the lifestyle, are you man" Warrick asked, his smug grin swallowed by the lip

of his mug.

Nick's indignant laugh resonated throughout the group, a delightful sound to everyone's ears. "Naw man, it's just... I thought it was kind of strange that her best friend thought that her boyfriend was abusing her, when all they were into was... a little kink. That's all. Not a psychologist though, so that's where my picking it apart stops."

"Good plan." Sara interjected, earning herself a stern look from her co-worker that only served to send her into a fit of laughter.

Nick picked up the ball that he had dropped and sent it back flying in Warrick's direction. "But hey man, as long as we're on the subject, as long as I'm not the only one embarrassed here..." There was a flush on his cheeks, though most likely from the shot he'd consumed than from actually being embarrassed. "I'm guessing you're into the leather my friend." Warrick laughed and shook his head in amusement. "Oh yeah, I betcha get off having all of the control."

"The submissive is actually the one in control." Grissom wanted to say, but bit his lip, knowing that such a divulgence would earn him strange looks from his co-workers.

"Naw man." Warrick answered, much to both Catherine and Nick's delight. "Not into leather, not into lace really... a healthy balance of the two." He provided, wonderfully numb. "How bout you Cath" The former asked, watching as she swirled the remnants of her beer around in her mug.

Pondering, she snuck her hand over Warrick's knee, the alcohol massaging her brain in its pliant grip. "Mmm, a little more leather, a little less lace, I think." The look that passed between them didn't go unnoticed and for some reason, caused Greg to get slightly giddy.

"Meow." He quipped and hissed, and to his delight, everyone at the table laughed. "So Sara, that leave you."

"Oh, no... no, no, no. I'm so not taking part in this conversation." The brunette huffed.

"Ah, vanilla girl." Greg said, gesturing towards her with his mug. "Warrick's like... Neapolitan. Cat's, hmmm, coffee, I'd say... Nick's vanilla bean, bordering on boring, sorry dude..." Greg took a pull on his beer. "I don't really wanna know, but I'm guessing you guys" he gestured to Brass and Grissom. "Are pistachio. Good from time to time, an old favorite."

"Sanders, you are a strange." Brass stated, just as Grissom shot the young CSI a stern look. He paid no notice.

"I'll tuck that compliment away, thank you" Greg said, rather quickly. "Anway" He turned to face Sara. "You're vanilla and that's okay."

"Boring." Catherine said.

"Not boring, classic." Greg corrected.

Sara thought for a moment before throwing caution to the wind. "She, the problem here, Greg, is you're assuming that everyone holds your ice cream metaphor."

He nodded, resting his head on his hand to listen to her argument.

"I..." She drew out, giving him her best coy smile"Like pie."

Greg responded immediately and no one saw Warrick slide his arm around Catherine.

"Right, okay, so nice, homemade apple pie." He reasoned, causing Nick to chuckle low and to himself into his beer. Sara was indignant, her mouth guppying for a moment.

"I can't believe you just think these things about me"

"Alright, then what type of pie are you" Greg challenged.

Her hair veiled her face when her head fell, hiding the shy smile she couldn't seem to contain.

"Okay, what you have to understand" Everyone moved forward to hear her reasoning. "Is that every pie generally starts out the same, right? You have the crust. And as if there aren't enough ways to make the crust, there's the filling."

Grissom was taken by her metaphor and his mind drifted off, imaging her hands working the pie crust against the sides of the plate, hands coated in butter and sugar. Gloriously sweet, shiny in the light as he looked over her shoulder at her preparations. She smiled at him and offered up her pinkie for the tasting.

"Think about it, you've got the standard apple, blueberry, pumpkin, pecan. Then you get a little crazier, with the cherry, strawberry, boysenberry."

"Raspberry" Catherine interjected.

Sara gave her a thumbs up. "Good one" Their next round of shots came and they all took a moment to down theirs. "So" She continued, a tad breathless, her tongue heavy with Jose Cuervo. "Then you get into the really good ones, the chocolate mousses... and the... lemon meringues."

Lemon meringue. That was a beautiful scene to imagine. Listening to her hum as she beat the eggs yolks into a gooey mess. Watching as her hands worked the hard lemons, making sure to measure out the exact amount of the tart juice. Licking the remnants of the-

"Each of them has to be baked at a different temperature, the perfect amount of heat to come out just right, you know"

The right amount of heat. Heat.

"So, Greg, I'd have to say, fresh lemon meringue." Sara smiled and gulped the rest of her beer. Positively warm. "I'm a lemon meringue pie. Sweet, then tart, and perfectly innocent until you break through that tiny layer of burnt sugar at the top."

Warrick laughed at the stunned expression on Greg's face. Nick laughed as well, but followed up with a comment. "Damn Sara, that was hot." He said, reaching across Greg to high five her.

"Thanks." She said slightly bashful and poured herself another mug of beer.

Two rounds later, conversation flowing, Catherine decided that she and Warrick couldn't stay in public any longer and not break the law. She'd shamelessly ushered him from the booth, under the observant and knowing eyes of her peers. "Warrick and I are leaving." She announced and he shrugged, reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve his keys.

Just before he was tugged away, he tossed them on the table and they skidded over to where Nick was seated. The rest of the people at the table stared at the keys as Catherine and Warrick hobbled towards the door and disappeared into the blazing Las Vegas morning.

"Who's driving? Because it ain't me." He pushed the keys into neutral territory, the center of the table, as they all continued to stare.

Grissom sighed, looking at his nearly full mug of beer, weighing the options. Sure, they could call cabs, but that would be pointless. And Warrick's vehicle would stay in the parking lot and most likely be towed. "I'll drive." He sighed as Greg went to settle the tab.

Moments later, they were all groaning and cursing the obscenely bright sun, sitting in the once-again-sticky interior of Warrick's Tahoe. "Where to first" Grissom asked.

Brass had opted to be dropped back at P.D. so he could grab his car and messages. Nick and Greg were going back's to Greg's place to try out the new Madden for X-Box. Sara, well, Sara just wanted to go home. She sat in the passenger seat, body nearing a state of liquid from a combination of the heat, the alcohol and the presence of the man seated to her left.

Her apartment was a good way away from Nick's at least a twenty-minute drive, and they spent most of it in relative silence. She'd toyed with the idea of turning on the radio, but gave up on the idea when she'd shifted in her seat and he'd turn to glance at her.

Fifteen minutes into their journey, the car having chilled to a freezing level, Grissom took a hard left into a grocery store parking lot. Without an explanation, he hopped from the cab and rushed inside, all the while, Sara's eye on him. He returned a few minutes later, a bag of groceries in hand, brow covered in a light sheen of sweat.

It would take some finagling, to be sure, but he was driven by his insane idea. His thoughts rode back to his image of her, covered in butter and sugar, slipping a pie into the oven, licking the confection from her fingers, offering him some.

It pushed him over the edge, that single thoughts, and he bolted down isle twelve to buy sugar.

When he re-entered the vehicle, her arms were crossed, waiting for an explanation. He started up the Tahoe without giving her one and she finally asked.

"What's was that about"

Grissom's face tore apart in a small smile and he glanced at her quickly. "Ingredients... for baking a pie."

She was stunned. The only thing she could utter was"I haven't baked in ages."

"Good then" He said uneasily. "We'll learn together."


End file.
